


loving you's a bloodsport

by anniebibananie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bodyguard, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt and comfort, Modern AU, Modern Westoros, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: It’s been almost a year since Syrio Forel was tragically murdered in the line of duty, and Arya hasn’t been able to forget it… or find another guard who she likes half as much. Then Gendry Waters comes along, and she thinks he might not actually be all that bad as far as bodyguards go.





	loving you's a bloodsport

**Author's Note:**

> [gendrya playlist for your listening pleasure ](https://open.spotify.com/user/1267341417/playlist/4snBRfCMBK5L7ZPcp1uLMD?si=Wl_ECwmERsWD0Qck5_ZWCw)

                                                           

* * *

* * *

Arya watched Sansa as she put the brush back into the eye shadow, picking out a hue with a seriousness Arya would never understand. With a small hum of approval, Sansa moved back and dabbed at Arya’s eyes. It took everything Arya had to keep calm, to bite back the disgust at this mask she didn’t much like wearing.

One night, she reminded herself, had won her half a year of privacy.

“You know, you could come with me and Jon if you wanted,” Sansa said. She sorted through her bag of lipsticks. Arya refrained from pointing out that whatever ended up on her lips would probably get chewed off.

“Charity tour? Good for you Sans, but no fucking thanks.” Arya’s shoulders fell. “Too many cameras.” There was more than that, things Arya still couldn’t name aloud, but maybe Sansa knew that already. The way she looked quickly up then down, pushing a strand of lightly curled hair behind her ear, felt like a diffusion of those words they weren’t able to bring to the surface.

Sansa’s lips were painted in red, the exact same shade as the dress she was wearing. Arya could see the headlines now—Ned Stark’s Daughter Bold in Red. How could she do it, Arya wondered. After all that she had been through she still put herself out there, bold and beautiful. There was a strength in that, she supposed.

Arya stood up and moved to the mirror, eyeing her own reflection. She never liked the dresses they brought to her, all the prominent designers just begging for a Stark girl to wear their label. Whatever was darkest, simplest, was what Arya went with. Today she was in a no-frills black number, her dark hair barely reaching her nearly bare shoulders. It did the job—the already invisible girl slipped further into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

_“Ready for the wolves?” Sansa had asked as she fixed an eyelash in a large mirror of the hall. Her clutch was delicately held in her palm._

_Arya groaned. “_ We _are the wolves. They’re just a bunch of fucking pricks.”_

_Sansa tutted but bit back her smile._

_“Ready ladies?” Syrio appeared to their right in a nondescript suit as silently as he always did. Sansa jolted beside her, but Arya was used to the greeting._

_It was hard for Arya to explain her love for him, the swelling of affection she felt for Syrio. The way she was unable to define where he fell—family, friend, bodyguard. Sometimes in her youth, she saw Syrio far more than she had ever seen her father, and he was good at filling that loneliness. She knew he loved her back in a way that was dangerous for someone who was hired to keep them safe, probably, though maybe helpful, too._

_“You always frighten me,” Sansa said, though her smile was kind, too._

_“Sorry, miss,” he said with a small bow of the head. “Your father told me to follow as you make the rounds, and then we can make a quick exit if you ladies prefer.”_

_Arya smiled. Thank gods for that._

 

* * *

 

“Be nice to him,” Sansa whispered as they approached Jon and who must be the newest replacement.

He was better looking than the last two—a man who hadn’t lasted more than two months and a woman who had lasted eight on pure will alone. Tall, broad shouldered, but it was clear he was uncomfortable in the suit. This part of the job must have been new to him.

“Miss Stark,” he said giving a little nod of his head to Sansa before turning to Arya, “and Miss Stark.” His eyes paused for an extra beat on Arya, and she shifted in her stupid heels. “I’m Gendry Waters.”

Arya eyed him with narrow eyes, making a little hmph mostly to throw him off. His eyes and posture showed no signs of discomfort.

Sansa stepped forward and held out her palm. “Nice to meet you, Gendry. Arya will probably try to evade you, or ignore you, so we appreciate your service.”

Smiling sweetly, Arya turned her face to Sansa. “Fuck off.”

Sansa snorted, and Jon covered it in a cough. “Come on, Jon,” Sansa said, nodding with her head. “The quicker I’m in, the quicker I’m out.”

Jon paused to check his gun by his side and give both Gendry and Arya a nod before they entered into the ballroom. Then it was just the two of them. Arya had never been good with the niceties she was meant to wield like a weapon as a prominent politician’s daughter.

“Are you really going to run away from me?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“I never run away,” Arya said. “Sneak, maybe.”

The corner of his lips perked up, and he shifted from one foot to the other as it looked almost like he was sizing her up again.

“You’re allowed to smile, y’know. I am rather funny.” She snorted when he rolled his eyes. He quickly followed it by clearing his throat, standing straighter up. “Come on, Gendry. Make sure I don’t get shot, yeah?” She turned toward the doors.

“Aye, Miss Stark.”

The clacking of her heels stopped. She eyed him over her shoulder. “Arya will be fine.”

The door opened, and she stepped through. The noise rustled past, but she almost thought she could make out him repeating her name, slow and deliberate— _Arya._

 

* * *

 

 _Ten and already too much for her tutors and guards to handle._ Why can’t you be easy? _Sansa would ask, and Arya would stick out her tongue. It was fine, Arya was quicker and quieter than anyone ever anticipated. She rounded a corner and ran into something strong, falling hard onto her butt on the stone floor._

_“Are you the runaway Stark girl?” He was short with curly hair and a face that was neither kind nor cruel._

_“Who’s asking?”_

_“Fair question.” He bowed his head a little. “Syrio Forel, your new guard.”_

_“You can’t make me go back,” she said, head tilted to the side with petulance. “They just want me to sit and stay. Be pretty.”_

_Syrio sighed, crouched down to the floor to get on her eye level. “You aren’t pretty, are you?” And even before he continued Arya knew that it wasn’t an insult, that he already seemed to be understanding something about herself she hadn’t come to realize yet. “You’re more than that. I can help you be more than that, but there are certain things we must do. Yes?”_

_He held out his pinky, and she understood then that this was a deal they were making. For a beat, she stared at the callused skin and thought. Then it was effortless. A promise made._

 

* * *

 

Arya didn’t know why she bothered scrolling through the headlines. _Sansa Stark, Notable Daughter of The Hand, Shines in Red._ She snorted at her own skill as she flung herself back onto Sansa’s pillow. They were all so predictable. Just as she was about to scroll past, her eyes caught her own name. _While Sansa was all smiles, Stark’s other daughter was notably shy. Only visible for a few minutes, Arya disappeared before her father made his speech. Is there tension in the Stark household? Or is this merely leftover trauma from the experience a little over a year ago, when Syrio_

Arya threw her phone to the other side of the bed. Sansa looked up startled from her suitcase which she was meticulously packing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? You don’t even have to attend the events, you could still travel with Jon and me.”

“Why are you going?” Arya asked. She twisted her body around, laying on her stomach and looking up at her sister. “Do you really want to do it?”

Sansa took a deep breath and folded a shirt over again, checking the creases before setting it in the suitcase. “It’s good for me to get out and do these things. Being locked up in this house doesn’t do me any good.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Arya nodded. “Thanks for the offer, but I need some alone time. We both know I’d be a buzzkill, anyways.”

A sly smile spread across Sansa’s lips. Arya flipped her off.

“You’re not supposed to agree.”

Sansa smiled wider. “You just have a whole aversion to people that can be rather difficult to work around, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” She turned around, her red hair flying in the air for a moment, and grabbed her suit jacket. “Promise me you’ll at least give Gendry a shot? Jon says he’s really good stock, not like the last few.”

“He did fine at the gala,” Arya said. It felt generous to her.

Sansa sighed. “Is it going to be a problem? Maybe he could come with me, and Jon could stay with you? I’m sure it wouldn’t—”

“No.” Arya pushed herself to sit cross legged. “No, Sansa.”

It was a kind offer, kinder than Arya deserved, which was why she could never take it. Arya would love to have Jon be her guard, to have him around instead of the strangers she got stuck with, but ever since Sansa had gone through her own trauma there were few people she was able to trust. Jon was a familiar face and one she knew would protect her at all costs. Arya would never take that away from her sister.

“Okay.” Sansa’s shoulders fell with relief. “I’m a phone call away if you need me, though. Don’t hide yourself away for the entire time I’m away?”

Arya shrugged. “We’ll see.” Sansa gave her a look. “Fine, I promise to see if Meera wants to hang out or something.”

“Good,” Sansa said with a smile. Arya tried to smile back.

 

* * *

 

Training was harder when she had to do it alone, but Arya was okay with that. Alone was something she found solace in. She did it early or late at night, when no one else would be around, and she used the training space like she owned it. The room was cavernous—one large central mat for sparring, a row of different punching bags and dummies, a few training machines.

Arya found something grounding in pushing her body to the extreme. When her thighs were aching and her arms were tired, there was something beautiful in it. It used to be almost fun, when she would spar with Jon or Syrio… Syrio, who had taught her most of what she knew.

Now it sometimes felt like a punishment. If she could push herself harder, if she could do more than she’d done the day before, maybe she could imagine changing the past. It was a pleasurable torture. She stepped over to the speaker and turned the music up louder, letting her body sync up with the bass before she moved back to the punching bag. Punch punch, jab, punch punch, jab. There was movement to her right, and she turned to see Gendry.

It had been a week since Sansa and Jon had left, and Arya had spent most of it alone. During the day she made herself scarce. She worked out when no one else was around. Despite knowing Gendry was around, she hadn’t seen him much. Now, he leaned against the pillar in a pair of athletic shorts and an old rubgy t-shirt.

“You know, I could spar with you if you like. Or just work out at the same time as you.”

“No, thanks,” she said with a roll of her eyes, turning back to the punching bag.

“What? Scared you’d lose?” he teased, raising a brow.

Arya grunted. “You’re baiting me.”

He shrugged. “It’s my job, y’know. I’m yours to…” he trailed off, wincing at the awkwardness of the phrasing.

“I’m not sure you could teach me anything I wouldn’t already know,” she said instead. A bead of sweat worked its way down her back.

Nodding, Gendry stepped forward onto the mat. “Why not put it to the test.”

Arya took off the boxing gloves and let them drop to the floor. Then she lifted up the tank top that was already sticking to her back and dropped that, too. He seemed unphased, and she liked that. The song shifted, and she squared up to him with a nod. Barely a second later, the two moved into action.

His style was so different than Syrio, who was smooth like a dancer and all about reaction. Gendry moved with quick purpose, his moves sharp and powerful. His body was large and filled with strength, and it was clear he had been taught to harness that like a weapon. She had never bothered asking anyone where he came from, but she had a feeling he was a soldier now that she saw him move.

As Gendry plowed forward, Arya dipped around him. She had been taught to use her body to her advantage, too. He reached forward to knock her down, and she twisted around, attaching herself to his back. Her weight meant little to him, but she had caught him off guard. Making a move to take them both to the ground, she let go and moved back around.

They sparred back and forth, both getting more and more competitive. After a few minutes, Arya realized she was having _fun._ He responded so well to her movements, really giving her a challenge, and he never held back. She twisted to kick and knocked his jaw. He stumbled back and touched the raw flesh, laughing a little.

“Okay, that's how we’re going to play it then.”

His arms went to wrap around her waist, and she was so shocked at the movement she failed to respond until he already had her in the air. They both fell with their backs to the mat, and she moved quicker, trapping his shoulders to the ground with her knees.

“You got me,” he relented, and she fell back onto the mat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the blaring music and their strained breathing.

“See? I don’t need anyone to train with,” Arya said. The ceiling light flickered, and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of it.

“Everyone needs someone,” Gendry said.

She could hear him getting back to his feet, and then he stood above her offering a hand. He pulled her up.

There was a taste of blood in her mouth from when his elbow had accidentally hit her, and as twisted as it was it made her smile. It felt foreign. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“It seems like you’re missing the whole concept of what my job is?” he joked. “I’ll be here.”

She nodded. “Good. Go shower, though, you smell.”

He rolled his eyes, he walked her back to her room, and then he disappeared.

 

* * *

 

_Ned found her in the training room, practicing kicks against a punching bag that was almost too tall for her. He was still in a suit, though the tie was loosened and the top buttons undone._

_“Ah, shoulda known I could have found you here.”_

_Arya paused and pushed her hair behind her ears. She had skipped her tutoring session again today, mostly because Syrio was off on vacation and no one had been around to make sure she went. It had been easy to leave the grounds and go for a run around the city, no one aware. She missed the cold of Winterfell, the neverending green as opposed to the stupid King’s Landing heat._

_Sometimes, it shocked her how easy it was to disappear into nothing. How easily people welcomed her as part of the shadows._

_“You know, lessons are important, Arya,” he said, though his words were tired. Not at her, just tired. Arya had grown used to the way exhaustion hung from his shoulders in the year since they’d come to King’s Landing and their lives were upended. He sat down on the steps, and she joined him._

_Words were still so hard for her, despite her lessons that tried to make her more fluent, more concise, more proper. “I just…”_

_They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Ned sighed._

_“You know, we just want the best for you. You can get a good education, go into politics yourself if you want. Maybe you’ll find someone of proper standing and get married. There are options for you… so many.”_

_“That’s not me,” she said, eyes on the floor. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that.”_

_He reached forward, tapping a finger against his daughter’s cheek. When she looked up at him, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “You can train with Syrio. We can get you other people to train with too, other people to teach you the things you’re interested in. But you have to do the basic lessons, Arya, you might need them someday.”_

_“Okay,” she said. It was a good compromise._

_“I’m proud of you, you know,” Ned said._

_“Really?” Arya picked at the hem of her shirt. “Sansa is always getting top marks and–”_

_Ned wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I can be proud of you both. I have a lot of love, my little wolf.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled. “Now, show me one of those flip kicks Syrio is working on with you. I’ve heard it’s rather impressive.”_

_Arya smiled and jumped up. She felt loved. She felt seen._

 

* * *

 

Gendry came the next morning, and the next. It was their ritual, to take the gym in the morning before everyone else. Sometimes afterwards they walked to the kitchens and ate breakfast together. Hot Pie and Gilly worked in the mornings, and they were some of Arya’s favorite staff. They didn’t treat her like someone who needed to be taken care of, just average Arya. Gendry got along with them, too, and when the four of them ate breakfast together in the mornings Arya could almost convince herself she was simply hanging out with friends.

She wasn’t the daughter of the Hand. She wasn’t someone who was supposed to rise to greatness. She was just Arya.

“Fuck,” Gendry said with a rush of breath, “you’re on your game today.”

Arya paused, letting her hands drop to her side. “After breakfast, would you want to do something with me?”

Gendry smiled. He didn’t made a joke about how that was pretty much his job. “Sure,” he said.

Which was how he found himself being taken to the garage. Arya’s hair was still dripping from her quick shower onto her black t-shirt, leaving small droplets of water. They walked to the far back, where Arya pulled out a key and lead them through another door. She turned on the light, and there was the beginnings of a BMW 507.

“Holy shit,” he said as he stepped forward, reaching out a hand to run over the hood. “Are you fixing this up?” he asked. “How did you even get your hands on one?”

“Aren’t you required to read files on me or something?” she asked. She walked over to her swivelling chair and sat down on it, bringing one leg up and wrapping her arms around her knee. “This is what I do, you know. I fix up vintage cars and sell them for way too much money to all the entitled pricks who can afford them.”

“I know,” Gendry said, his voice muffled because he was looking in at the interior. “But you haven’t since—” His voice cut out. “Haven't for a while,” he corrected.

“A pet project,” she said, her voice soft. “The whole engine is still shit, lots of interior work to be done. When I finish it might be my most ambitious car ever taken on.”

“Who has all seen it? Knows about it?” he asked.

“You.” She watched his shoulders tighten and loosen. She watched him stand back up to full height and pop his hands into the black pants he was required to wear. His tie was crooked and he hadn’t bothered with the jacket either. Arya eyed his dark hair that was growing and wondered how he liked to wear it, if it was mostly short because it was a soldier’s habit.

“You know, I used to work at a mechanic,” he said as he rapped his knuckles against the top of the car.

“Are you suggesting you can look pretty and hand me tools?” she asked.

“I mean, I was suggesting I could help out, but whatever you want.” He paused and snorted out a laugh. “And I always look pretty, thank you for noticing.”

She bit down her smile. “Okay.”

His eyes were back on the car, a certain sense of fondness that made Arya confident she had made the right decision. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

_“Come on, Syrio, you must like some sort of car.” Arya sat outside the dressing room, waiting for Sansa to come back with dresses for the both of them. They needed outfits for the annual gala, and Sansa was looking through all the designer options._

_“I have a car. It works well.” He was standing by the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him._

_“That isn’t what I asked.” Arya brought her legs up and sat cross-legged on the bench. “Everyone has a dream car.”_

_He eyed her, the two of them having a silent stare off. “If I really had to choose… I love BMW 507’s, the way they look, the history. My father always said if he made it big he would try for one of those.”_

_“I’ve never done one. There aren’t many. “_

_“Arya Stark, if you try to build me a car I’d give it away,” he said. “Much too much.”_

_“It would be a gift! You’ve done so much for me.”_

_“I get paid for it. Compensation enough.”_

_She hummed with skepticism, and he narrowed his eyes again. Sansa waltzed in, a woman behind her carrying a pile of dresses._

_“All the boring black ones are options for you,” Sansa said with a joking smile._

 

* * *

 

The small radio in the corner filled the room with classic 90’s R&B, which Arya didn’t seem to currently mind. Her back was against the cabinet as she took a break to eat a sandwich while Gendry was under the car. She heard a small curse and chuckled to herself.

“You were a soldier?” she asked. She had been wondering it since the first time they fought together, but she was bad at intimacy, at conversation in general. She didn’t know what could end up as sensitive topics, and she didn’t want to ruin the tentative connection they had found.

The sounds of his work halted. She took in a deep breath. Then it continued. “How’d you know?”

“You fight like a soldier,” she said. Arya had come to like his fighting style, had even picked up a few of his techniques. There was something raw and brutal about it that she appreciated. “How’d you end up here?”

“I didn’t really want to end up a soldier,” he said. “But we didn’t have much. I was working at the car shop and it turned out there were more debts under my mom’s name than I knew. It was a way to get them forgiven.”

“Debts forgiven?” Arya picked at her chips and reached for her water to take a drink.

“I wasn’t just a soldier, Arya. I was… something else. An elite group of people who might as well have been nobody. They took the most desperate people, made them do the most dangerous or dirty jobs in the name of our country and, more importantly, our security.”

Arya tried to reconcile that version of Gendry in her head with the vision that currently resided there, but it was difficult. Gendry was big and certainly capable of keeping his own in a fight, but she couldn’t imagine him as someone in the dirt. He wasn’t made to hurt. He was a bit gruff, not always as posh as the other guards, but he felt warm to Arya.

“Why didn’t you go back to the car shop when you were cleared?” she asked.

The wheels squeaked as he rolled out from below the car and sat up. He leaned his back against the car and reached out for water, which Arya handed over. She pushed the plate between them in a silent offer to share.

“It turns out about a year and a half into my service my mother got sick—incurable, they said. Pretty far along. I didn’t know it, though, not until my service was over. They didn’t want to tell me cause I was in too deep into a mission, and it could have compromised it if I was distracted.”

“Fuck,” she said, eyeing his face.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He reached up a hand and ran it over his growing hair. “It didn’t really feel right going back to my old life after that.”

And that? Well, that Arya could understand. It was why shadows were preferable to the spotlight.

“I’m sorry,” Arya said. “I’m glad you ended up with me, though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched in surprise.

“Obviously, do you know how prissy some elite can be? You could have ended up protecting someone who shopped all day or liked to _golf._ You made it out easy.”

Gendry scoffed. “And you think you’re easy, Arya?”

Her lips curved up at the edge, and she shrugged. “Nah. But I like to think I’m a good time.”

The two paused, and Arya wondered if she should reach out in some sort of sign of comfort. If Sansa was here, maybe she could give a hug or a light touch to his forearm. Arya didn’t know how to do that, though. She reached for more of her sandwich.

“Have you had enough of my pretty face? Is it okay if I go back under the car?”

“I’d prefer it, actually,” she launched back.

 

* * *

 

“He’s hot,” Meera said as she licked at her ice cream cone. A little girl at a passing restaurant waved at her, and Meera waved back.

“Who?” Arya asked. It had been hard to be convinced to go outside, but Meera had been particularly convincing. _It’s just ice cream, Arya_.

“Your bodyguard, dummy.” She motioned obviously behind them, and Arya turned to see Gendry trailing them as casually as he could manage. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the look, but she rolled her eyes back at him.

“Gendry? He’s just Gendry.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Meera waved at a group of school kids passing by, smiling at a boy who waved particularly enthusiastically.

People liked Meera. They thought of her as one of the people, despite her high status. Last year she had sailed across the globe by herself, and when she had come back she splashed across a million different news outlets. She was always doing something daring or interesting, and she wore the public praise easily. It was effortless for her to balance the public and the private.

“Where’s Sansa now? She coming back soon?” Meera bit into her cone and it crunched loudly. The two of them sat down on a bench near the water, watching the boats and birds go by.

Arya could feel Gendry’s eyes on them. “Last time I talked to her they had about one or two more stops to go, and then they come back. I’ve missed them.”

“I can imagine that big house gets pretty lonely without them,” Meera said. “Do you think she’ll go back to school when she returns?”

Arya sighed. The air breezed by, and she was glad for the air on her bare neck. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, and it’s not like she really needs school to do whatever she wants.”

“She’ll kick ass either way. She should just be in charge of the whole Stark Foundation anyways, she’s the one who does the most work with it.”

“Yeah.” Arya finished off her cone, balling the napkin in her hand. “How’s your brother?”

“An idiot as always. He misses when Bran was here.”

“Me too.” Arya thought again about the woods around Winterfell, how lovely it would be to be back there with Robb and Bran. Even just to go visit Rickon at his boarding school. There was no reason she had to stay here, really, and yet she found it so hard to do. If she left, her father would be all alone.

Meera stood up to go throw out her trash, and as her palm opened up above the trash can a car screeched to a stop beside them. Arya was up on her feet as quickly as possible as a man reached out to grab at Meera. Arya kicked at the man’s knee, making him double over as someone else approached, and she felt arms go around her waist.

“Arya!” Meera called.

Using all her force, Arya flung her head back and could hear the crack from her skull connecting with a nose. There was a grunt and the arms released. She elbowed into his gut and turned around to face him. Before she had to make another move, Gendry was in front of her pushing the two behind him.

He was reaching for his gun when the man dove forward with a knife, nearly hitting Gendry’s abdomen. Arya ran forward to help, but Meera was pulling her back. The two fought—frantic and fierce—as Meera continued to pull her away. The knife made contact with Gendry’s stomach, and the man retreated into the van.

“Gendry,” Arya said as she moved forward, Meera finally letting her go. Her knees hit the cement hard as she knelt beside him.

Blood pooled from his stomach, and she didn’t waste a second before pushing her hand down to add pressure.

“Ambulance will be here in a second, Arya. My men are bringing the cars around right now.” Meera hovered, unsure which direction to go.

“Fuck, Gendry,” Arya said. She wasn’t sure if she was crying, but her eyes stung.

“I’ll be fine, Arya. I’ve suffered worse.” He tried a smile, but it turned into a grimace. “You have to get out of here.”

“I’m not… I’m not _leaving._ What if…” She could feel her breath grow quicker, the panic beginning to set in. This wasn’t the first time she had been here, and she was starting to get tired of the patterns of her life.

“Meera, get her into the car,” he choked out. His face was sweating, and Arya refused to let her hands up from the bleeding.

Another man in a suit appeared beside her, pushing her hands to the side, and she reached forward with a hand to do…. What? She wasn’t sure. But she needed to tell him or show him or make it clear that he couldn’t leave her. She couldn’t handle it.

Meera and one of her guards was pulling her back and pushing her into the car. Where had he been a minute ago? The ambulance sounded behind them, and Meera poured water over her bloody palms before scrubbing it with her sweater.

“He’ll be fine, Arya.” Meera reached out and grabbed her face. “Come on, wolf girl. You know it, don’t you?”

“He’ll be fine,” she said, steeling herself. “We’re fine.”

 

* * *

 

_“You always frighten me,” Sansa said, though her smile was kind, too._

_“Sorry, miss,” he said with a small bow of the head. “Your father told me to follow as you make the rounds, and then we can make a quick exit if you ladies prefer.”_

_Arya smiled. Thank gods for that._

_Except the night spiraled quickly on, and there were too many people Arya and Sansa were forced to talk to. The man who had bought Arya’s most recent car wanted to talk about all the specifics, and somehow though she had been the one to build it from the ground up he seemed to think he could explain it better._

_Then it was time for her father’s speech, and the family went to join him by the podium. Rickon, Bran, Sansa, Robb, Arya. They stood behind him like the good politician’s children they’d been raised to be._

_Then, a gun. A single shot that had them all forcing themselves to the ground. Ned was crawling toward them despite the fact that his personal guard was pulling him off stage. Robb and Jon had rushed Sansa and Rickon off the other side of the stage, having been the closest to them, but Arya saw Bran behind the podium as another shot rang out._

_She eyed the distance, the spot where the gun was coming from, and dashed out in front as Sansa yelled at her._

_Another shot flew by her arm, grazing the skin and blood spurt out. Then another shot—but this time it landed in another’s flesh. There Syrio stood with the shot lodged in his abdomen. There he fell. There he died._

_“No,” she whispered. “No,” she screamed. It didn’t do anything. There was only one god, and his name was Death. Syrio had taught her that._

 

* * *

 

Arya didn’t have much time to pack her stuff before they were rushing her out to Winterfell. Meera and Arya weren’t the only politician’s children with abduction attempts. Earlier Shireen Baratheon had barely missed freedom as she was at the opera. Myrcella was already being shipped off to Dorne. Meera and Jojen were coming to Winterfell with her.

“Why don’t you come with?” Arya asked. “Certainly, you deserve to be safe, too?”

Ned stood in front of her in the hallway, the duffel she would be taking with her between them. For a minute, Arya thought about how close they had used to be. They were inseparable in so many ways, and then they had come to King’s Landing and everything changed. The last decade of her life, so bizarre and strange.

“I can’t,” he said. “But you and your siblings will be, and that's all that matters. We have everyone investigating the situation, and when it’s safe you can all come back.”

Arya nodded, unsure what to say. She picked up her bag and walked toward her father. After dropping it to the ground, she reached out and hugged him. When they pulled back, his eyes were red.

“I’m… I’m sorry I made this your life,” Ned said, and there was something in his voice… gods, Arya wanted to yell at him.

_I never asked for this. I never wanted any of this. Can’t you see the way your pride and goodness has left us in a lion’s den?_

“If I could go back…” He reached out and clutched onto her face. Maybe it was a Stark’s curse—to wish to go back in time, to rewind it all and fix the past for a brighter present.

“We can’t go back,” Arya said, and somehow it was understood. This was her _it’s okay. I love you, too._ “We can’t.”

“You’re so smart and brave.” He held her cheek and let it go. “Keep your family safe when I can’t, yeah?”

She nodded before reaching down to grab her bag. Then she paused, turned toward him, raised a brow. “Will Gendry be okay?”

He sighed. “You’ve grown attached, haven’t you?” She remained silent. “He’ll be fine. In a few more days, he’ll come up if all the checks clear.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she hugged him again. It felt like answer enough.

 

* * *

 

That night, a few hours into their train ride, Arya dreamt of a lot of things that didn’t seem to make much sense. At first she was in the large estate of King’s Landing, winding through the many halls as if she was looking for someone she couldn’t find. There was a call of a name, but by the time she was awake she couldn’t quite remember if it had been her own or someone else’s.

Then she was back in Winterfell, standing from the tallest balcony to look down at her grounds and there were her siblings—all the same age they had been when they left. Suddenly, they were all piling into a car to leave and Arya tried to yell, to warn them, but there was no sound coming out of her throat.

And finally it was that same gala where a gunshot roared and changed everything.  She was leaping across the stage toward Bran, and the shot rang out and when she turned… there was Gendry, blood spilling from his abdomen and his knees buckling.

She woke up in a flurry, and she reached a hand underneath her sleeve and felt the scar of the bullet on her bicep.

 

* * *

 

_Her dress wasn’t actually slipping, but Arya kept adjusting it as if it was. She felt so odd in the dress and heels. Arya was pretty certain she would never get comfortable with the feeling of it._

_Sansa was out in the crowd talking to someone Arya couldn’t remember, with Jon a few paces back. Robb and Bran had made it out again, and they were by the side of the stage with Ned. The speech was sure to happen any minute._

_Arya felt her throat tighten up, and she took a hurried step back further into the shadows of the side._

_“Miss St– Arya,” Gendry said beside her. His hand reached out and cupped her upper arm. “Are you alright? Do you…”_

_Their eyes made contact, and for a second Arya could breathe. “Get me out of here.”_

_“Your wish is my command.” His hand moved from her upper arm to her lower back, ushering her out with a look that dared anyone to question him._

_Maybe he won’t be too bad, she had thought. Maybe this one will stick._

 

* * *

 

“I know you miss my brother, but you have to give me the first hug,” Arya teased Jojen as they watched their luggage loaded into a car.

“I make no such promises.” Jojen had grown even taller since the last time Arya had seen him, and she wondered when he would stop growing. He was supposed to be past growth spurts, and yet he seemed to be constantly sprouting upward like a tree.

Arya stopped to admire the greenery, and she took a deep breath. There was an earthiness she had missed so deeply. It made her feel more grounded. It was almost as if in King’s Landing her energy was disconnected, blocked by the city and the politics. Here she felt more powerful, more undiluted. Less like a fish in a bowl and more like a wild wolf.

They slid into the car, somehow Arya in the middle despite the lighthearted discourse happening between Meera and Jojen on either side. It wasn’t a long drive to her home in the heart of Winterfell, but it felt longer the way her heart ached to be reunited. The trees rushed past, covered lightly in the hint of frost.

As the car pulled in, Arya could already see her siblings on the front stoop waiting. Robb—just as dignified and warm. Bran—weary-eyed from hours looking at a book or screen, no doubt, but just as honest. Her mother—arms already twitching as if they were simply waiting to be opened wide for her. The second the car stopped, Arya was pushing Meera out and running toward them.

Robb made it to her first, meeting her in the middle, and she jumped into his arms. His chuckles radiated through his chest, and she could feel it in her bones.

“You’re just as pretty as the last time I saw you, Stark,” Meera teased as Arya was set down.

Robb rolled his eyes. “Lovely to see you, too.”

“Not as lovely as seeing Myrcella, though, right? Or Margaery? Which gossip columnist is right these days. Would you care to give a comment?”

“And I thought a woman who sailed the world wouldn't have time for gossip magazines.” He tilted his head and raised a brow.

She shrugged, the smile on her face wide and unbidden. “Oh, you get pretty bored on a boat by yourself. Have to think of things to do to make it interesting.”

“Please, stop,” Jojen whined, looking up from his conversation with Bran.

Arya took it as her opportunity to swoop in and grab her baby brother into a hug. He stumbled back slightly, his balance off. His left knee had never recovered from the bullet, and that was another thing for Arya to add to her list. Her stupid heroics? They didn’t save her brother from pain. They killed someone she loved. What was she even good for?

“I’m happy you guys are all here,” he said. “Seriously, it’s been getting boring.”

“Oh, just wait a few days and you’ll be begging to get your silence back.” Arya smiled, patted his arm. He looked good—less thinning then a year ago, more calm with the world around him. It was nice to see his shoulders without stress.

The group of them started chatting again, and Arya looked over Bran’s shoulder to see her mother still standing gracefully at the stoop. She walked over, nervously pushing a clump of hair behind her ear that had fallen from the ponytail. She loved her mother—she really, truly did—but it was hard when she had been separated from her so young. Her mother had been doing what she thought was best when she attempted to raise her to be ready for the world of politics and the games of people. Then Arya was ripped away from her home, only returning back occasionally, and it was even harder to connect.

But she loved her still, more than anything. She was her mom, and there was nothing like being back in her mother’s arms.

“I was so worried,” Catelyn breathed into Arya’s head, tucking it tighter underneath her chin. “To have you here and safe, it’s…”

Arya pulled her in closer. She just wished her safety didn’t mean other’s pain. She didn’t want to be a grenade. She wanted to be invisible, really, nothing and nobody. Then she wouldn’t hurt anyone.

 

* * *

 

It was almost midnight, and Arya couldn’t sleep. Her bed was as comfortable as the last time she had left it, but she felt off and twitchy. A bit strange. She grabbed a sweatshirt off of her chair where she had thrown it earlier and slipped it on, padding out in her socks to the hallway.

Besides for a few dim lights, there was nothing out, but Arya knew where she could go. She padded up and up, near the attic, and knocked on the small door she had only been allowed past a few times.

“Yes?” came the voice from the other side.

“Jory?” Arya asked. “Can I come in?”

The door opened, and he gave her a light smile. “Nice to see you home, Ms. Stark. Can I help you with something?”

Arya shifted, looking past him at the wall of screens. There was an open book of crossword puzzles, and she smiled to herself thinking about him away up here in this lonely tower thinking over words.

“Any way I can join you for a bit?” she asked. “I can’t sleep.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather go get something to eat?” His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was only left in his white button up. It was always funny to see these guards in their suits when they preferred the comfort of more casual wear. Usually, they were allowed that pleasure up North but not in a time of such high alert. “Oh, come on. I have an extra seat.”

Arya was used to the guards being a little extra sweet to her. In the old days, before King’s Landing, it used to bother Sansa beyond belief. _They just like you because you act like a boy._ Arya usually flung back something like, _Actually it’s just ‘cause I’m fun._ And then the two of them would run around the house, wild and unhindered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Jory switching between scratching away at the crossword and staring at the screens. The room was honestly more of a closet than anything—one side plastered with screens and a couple chairs in the middle, but it wasn’t used all that frequently normally. Arya had only seen the room through her childhood in glimpses as she ran through the halls.

“Do you really think anyone would come this far north? To try to take us again?”

Jory hmmed, thinking over his words. Arya liked that he didn’t feel that much need to speak quickly in conversation like this.

“I find it doubtful, but when it comes to you kids we have to be careful.”

“Kids?” Arya raised a brow, shifting forward on the seat.

The right corner of his mouth peaked up. “You’ll all always be  kids to me, probably. You chasing Sansa through the halls or begging Robb to let you play. Rickon always watching from afar.”

“Don’t you ever wish you had more of a life than all of this?”

He shrugged, leaning back. “Your father is my family, and now you all are, too. I don’t regret it.”

Arya hummed, nodding, thinking over his words. He had given up a lot to take care of them all the way he did. There were options in life away from the conventional, and there was a way to find happiness in that.

“Do you…” Arya stopped, biting her lip. “Have you heard anything about my previous guard? I was thinking about him today, wondering if there was a chance I could wish him a speedy recovery or something.”

“You don’t have his number?” Jory asked. She shook her head. “He’s still in the hospital, should be for another day or two to make sure he’s not putting too much pressure on the wound by returning to work. You ain’t going to do something stupid if I give you the number?”

“Jory, what could I possibly do that you wouldn’t approve of?”

Jory shrugged. He wrote it down on a piece of paper that he tore from the corner of his crossword. “Now, go back to bed. Or stop distracting me.”

“Thanks, Jory.”

He nodded with a hum again, eyes trained on the screen as she went. The paper felt extra crisp in her hands as she walked the halls, unsure where she was going to end up. It felt as if it was just yesterday she used to run around these halls, avoiding all her responsibilities with a recklessness of youth she probably still held to some extent.

She leaned against a wall, staring down at the paper. Tapping it into her phone, she wondered whether she should save it or try calling now. What were the odds he would pick up past midnight from a number he didn’t recognize? Why was she deliberating this so much when it wasn’t even a big deal?

If he didn’t pick up, which he probably wouldn’t, she could just leave a voicemail and be done with it. That seemed logical enough as she hit the call button, sliding further down the wall until her butt hit the floor.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Arya picked at the fraying fabric of her worn sweatshirt, tucking her legs underneath herself as they got caught with a chill.

“Hello? Arya, what’s wrong?”  His voice was a little groggy but still full.

Arya sucked in a breath, shocked both by his answer and the fact that he knew it was her. “You have my number?”

“Of course, it’s part of the job,” he said.

“Well, why don’t I have yours?”

He chuckled. “You never asked for it. I’m assuming by your lack of hurry there’s nothing urgent? Why are you calling me after midnight?”

“Just…” Arya tried to imagine what he looked like right about now, still in the hospital and probably itching to get out. Would he still look like the strong man she had gotten to know, or would he be tired, defeated? “Wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“At… 12:37 am?”

“I never said it was rational. Or timely.” Arya hopped back up to her feet, feeling odd still in the hall. She suddenly wanted to be back in her own room, under the covers as she listened to his voice. She hadn’t realized how much she had grown to miss it.

He hummed over the line. “What did I do to deserve such concern from Arya Stark?”

She shrugged before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Don’t go getting a big head.”

“I’m fine, Arya.” There was a bit of silence over the line, just the two of them breathing, as Arya finally made it back to her room. She walked through the door, closed it behind her, and made her way back to her bed. Maybe she was imagining it, but it almost felt as if there was still warmth from when she left it. “Is there… something else you wanted to talk about?”

“I…” Her voice trailed off, she closed her eyes, she tried to imagine him in front of her. What was this? Who was she? She felt so untethered and so uncertain. “I don’t want to keep you up.”

“The meds are wearing off, I’ll be up for a bit anyways.” His voice was a bit cautious, as if he was trying to make this easy for her without knowing how to do it.

And at the root of all of this, Arya shouldn’t be speaking to him like this. This late with this much care—it was undoubtedly against the rules. The distance made it feel safer, though, and Arya was pretty sure she needed this to get through the night.

“Do you know who was behind the attacks?”

“You don’t need to worry, there are a bunch of people on this trying to get to the bottom–”

“I’m not worried.” Arya took in a deep breath, eyeing the room around her. It was too large for someone who rarely used it. Her sheets were soft and warm, though, and she sunk further into the comfort.

“I reckon you wouldn’t be.” He cleared his throat over the line. “How’s Winterfell?”

“Beautiful. Home.” Arya wished there wasn’t that small part of her, though, that felt almost like a stranger slipping back into this place. “A little bit odd, honestly.”

“I imagine it would be. I never went home really, you know. Just long enough to get all my stuff, never really looked at the house we used to live in.”

“Do you regret that?”

He shuffled on the other side of the phone. “A little, maybe, but I felt like I needed to move on. At that time, dwelling in the past, it wasn’t gonna do anything good for me. Had to start something new.”

She hummed. They sat in a comfortable silence. “Maybe you can find a new sort of home.”

“And how am I supposed to do that when I’m watching your reckless neck all the time?”

 _I could be it,_ she wanted to say. _I can be your family._ Gods, that was too vulnerable and certainly over the line. When she watched Gendry’s life in danger she had  felt on the edge, like something new and good was about to be taken away (and at her fault nonetheless). She didn’t know how to fit him into her life, and yet she couldn’t imagine it without him.

“Good point. Might be safer for you to leave, then.” She winced.

There was a pause. “Do you want me to leave, Arya?”

She bit her lip, tearing the flesh. It left a copper taste in her mouth. “No.”

“Then I won’t. You should go to sleep.”

“You’re the one recovering.”

“We should both sleep.”

Arya sat up to turn the light beside her bed off and sunk back into the covers. The darkness was comforting. “Okay. Goodnight, Gendry.”

“‘Night, Arya.”

For a moment, neither hit end. The phone sat between their breaths. Then it cut to nothing.

 

* * *

 

_She was sitting in the kitchen, staring at a bowl of oatmeal she had no intention of eating. The King’s Landing heat poured in through every crevice, making it unbearable._

_“Arya,” Sansa said, reaching out with sudden concern. “Your arm is bleeding.”_

_She was slow to come back to the surface of thought as Arya turned her head toward her bandage, noticing the red. There was something stupid about how much it bled as such a tiny wound. Syrio was dead, but she kept on bleeding as if she deserved that privilege._

_“It’s fine,” she said, tugging the arm away from her sister’s grip._

_Sansa’s brows furrowed. “Getting an infection isn’t going to bring him back, Arya.”_

_The fire burned within her, and Arya wanted to lash out. “It’s_ fine, _Sansa. Give it up.”_

_“It’s isn’t fine, and you can’t keep—”_

_“You don’t get to control everything!”_

_Sansa huffed and stood up. “And you don’t get to take on the whole world by fighting it. Don’t be an idiot because you’re sad, Arya.”_

_The two stared at one another, the tension palpable._

_“Come on, Arya, let me help you.”_

_Arya didn’t want help, she didn’t want anything from anyone. But then she looked at her sister with her beautiful, caring face. The way her perfectly sculpted brows furrowed together. There were still people in her life she cared about._

_“Okay,” Arya said. It seemed to lighten her chest and her shoulders with the utterance of it. “Okay.”_

 

* * *

 

There wasn’t as much of a workout space as there was in King’s Landing, and Arya liked the weather better, so it felt like a good fit to go for a run. She knew it was stupid to sneak out and do it alone, there was supposed to be a guard on her when she left the grounds until the threat was found, but she needed some space. She could handle herself, anyways.

The woods were a bit darker then she remembered, mostly because the foliage was so thick the sun found it hard to make its way through. It felt otherworldly, in a way. There was something magical about the thick, stubborn trees and the wildlife that persevered.

A branch broke behind her, and Arya paused. Her breathing was ragged from the speed of her run. As she was about to start back up, another branch snapped and she shifted lower, wondering if there was something or someone behind her. She reached for the pepper spray she kept on her when she ran, but before she grabbed it Ghost was appearing from between the trees.

“Ghost!” Arya laughed with pleasure before pausing, realizing. “ _Ghost.”_

She gave the dog a good pet before sprinting back in the direction she had come. When she arrived by the side of their house, she could see Jon’s big, black car in the driveway. The door banged behind her as she went inside, but she didn’t care.

Jon was still standing in the hall with a duffel bag hanging over his shoulder when Arya ran at him, jumping onto his back.

“Seven Hells, Arya!”

She hopped back down to her feet, this time giving him a chance to turn around and hug her properly. The two laughed as they pulled back, happy in a small moment.

When Arya turned back around, Sansa stood at the end of the hall next to her mother, the pair watching the exchange. Arya smiled and stepped away from Jon toward her sister. It was always wild for Arya to imagine the way they used to interact and their difficult with intimacy. Arya stepped closer and gave her sister a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” Sansa said with a smile. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a few hairs flying from the constraints of the tie. Her face looked happy but tired. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, Gendry kept me safe,” she said. It made her want to bite her tongue or dig her fingernails into her palm. Not only because she hated the idea of relying on others, but because what had he gotten for it? Yes, it was  his job. Yes, he had made it clear he didn’t regret it. But she still hated it. “How were the last few months?”

Sansa looked between them all and gave a soft smile. “How about we talk over lunch?”

Arya agreed, only pausing briefly before walking to the kitchen when her mother grabbed onto her upper arm to briefly give her a glare. “No running off alone again, Arya. Got it?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” Catelyn let go and readjusted her top. “I just worry about you, that's all.”

Over lunch, Arya learned all about the last few months for Jon and Sansa. How Sansa had done endless talks and had endless meetings. How the two of them tried to find a spot for the best ice cream in every stop they had. Then there was the quick end, when the news of the kidnappings had come through.

“Did you hear about how little Lyanna Mormont stabbed her attacker? Took him right down,” Sansa said over a bite of her salad.

Arya set down her fork, leaning forward. “Do they have him in custody? Have we learned anything new?”

Jon swallowed and took a drink of water before answering. “He hasn’t given anything away yet, but we’re sure to get something out of him soon. Someone else definitely hired him. We just have to find out who that is.”

“Let’s hope for sooner rather than later,” Catelyn said as she stood up and took her dishes to the kitchen. The three of them sat in her absence, thinking over the words.

“We’ll be fine,” Sansa said, shifting her gaze between the two of them. “We always are.”

Arya set her fork down, suddenly not as hungry despite how much she had been moving lately and exerting herself. Her mind flashed to her late night conversation with Gendry. It was hard to admit to herself, and she would never aloud, but she missed him. She wanted him here.

“Have you guys seen Robb yet? Or Bran?” Arya asked. “Meera and Jojen are here somewhere, too.”

“Let’s go see them.” Sansa was already on her feet, smiling over her shoulder despite looking exhausted only a minute earlier.

It was horrible circumstances, maybe the worst, but Arya was almost grateful for the disaster. At least they were all together again. At least it felt like home.

 

* * *

 

Arya was walking through the halls, her new nighttime ritual by the look of things, when she heard something down the hall. She crept in her padded socks, still mostly thinking about whether she should go get a snack or just try to go back to bed. Slowing, she popped her head around the corner.

“You need to go to bed,” Bran said, leaning against the wall close to his bedroom door.

“But then I have to go to sleep without you for like eight hours, and I don’t know if I’m okay with that.”

It took a beat for Arya to place the voice before realizing it was obviously Jojen.

“You’re the biggest sap,” Bran said, though his voice didn’t seem that bothered by it.

Jojen leaned closer, and closer, and suddenly Arya couldn’t watch in this overly personal moment. It was too much to bear witness. She turned around and crept back to her bedroom, leaving them in the simplicity of their moment. Letting them have that.

 

* * *

 

The phone sat a foot in front of her on her bed, and she brought a hand up to her mouth to chew on the nail of her thumb. It was so tempting. She reached out, picked it up, and brought it to her ear.

“Arya?” his voice asked as he picked up, but it was more of a greeting. It felt more like he was saying _hi, tell me about what I’ve missed._

“Hi,” she said through a smile. They didn’t have their mornings anymore, but they could have their nights.

 

* * *

 

The days were becoming indistinguishable without any structure, not that she had that much before. When she woke with a start a few days later with little to no understanding of why, the sky was still pitch black. Her eyes went to the clock—2:14. There was little to no chance anyone else was still up, but she thought back about that special place from their collective youth and found herself by the second story hall window.

Arya noticed it was already cracked, the soft sounds of voices wafting through. She pushed it wider open and climbed onto the roof. Sansa and Bran were half-laying against the shingles as they talked, watching the stars.

“What are you two doing up?” Arya asked as she slid on the other side of Bran.

“We found each other in the kitchen,” Sansa said lazily, her words like honey. “He was talking about how he hasn’t been out on the roof in a long time, so I said we should do it. Why not.”

“Fuck you leg,” Bran said jokingly. “You can’t stop me from my roof rebellion.”

“Beautiful,” Arya joked, laughing lightly. “What were you talking about?”

“Oh, you know. The Stark curse.”

“We have a curse?” Arya asked. “And why haven’t I heard of it?”

Bran laughed. “I’m pretty sure Sansa made it up.”

“I did not!” Arya could practically feel the contrary look on Sansa’s face. “We are doomed in love, as much as I wish it wasn’t so.”

“You think we’re doomed?” Arya asked.

Sansa shrugged beside them, looking peacefully up at the stars still. Arya briefly caught the side of both of their faces, watching their peaceful expressions before looking back up herself.

“I don’t think there’s the impossibility for love,” Sansa said. “I’m still hopeful about that, I just think… Starks end up with it hard. Mom and dad have been separated for the majority of a decade. Lyanna and her sordid affair, and I mean… which of any of us have really made it out well with love?”

Arya thought about that glimpse of Bran the other night with Jojen. There was such softness between the two of them, but he remained silent.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Sansa said. “I hope I am.”

“Maybe it just makes it better when it works out,” Bran said finally, and Arya felt such hope for him in that brief moment her heart was bursting.

Her mind thought briefly of Gendry, but she banished it. She wasn’t sure why he sprung to mind.

“You probably are wrong,” Arya said lightly, “I mean you normally are.”

Sansa sighed as Bran chuckled, the three of them enjoying the light of the stars and the sky.

A sound came from their right, and they turned to see another window opening up. “You guys need to find a nighttime chat spot that isn’t right outside of my window,” Robb said, though his face was all smiles. “Go have tea in the kitchens like adults.”

Arya turned her head stubbornly back forward to the sky.

 

* * *

 

The woods were even darker in the morning as she ran, this time with Ghost. Jon was supposed to join her, but he had a particularly difficult time getting up for some reason. So Arya ran alone, knowing she would be home in enough time that her mother wouldn’t even know she had been gone off alone. Though, Arya would be willing to bet having Ghost by her side was almost more secure than having an actual person.

The sun began peeking up over the horizon and Arya made her way back home, popping out the side and noticing a new car in the driveway. A figure approached, the silhouette familiar in the darkness, and Arya slowed to a walk.

“You shouldn’t be out alone!”

Arya couldn’t help the smile spread across her face. “I’m not! I have Ghost.”

She was close enough now to see him roll his eyes and shuffle a hand through his hair. “Please do not get kidnapped after I willingly got stabbed for you not to be.”

Her heart dropped, and she felt her whole body tighten up.

“Hey,” he said, spotting the change. “That wasn’t what I meant.” He reached out, grasping onto her shoulder, and she took a small shuffle closer.

“I… I don’t want you getting hurt for me, you know,” she said.

He shrugged. “It’s the job, Ms. Stark.”

“Arya,” she said with an annoyed huff. “You know it’s Arya.”

He smiled. “You didn’t even say hello, or happy to see you.”

“That would imply I _am_ happy to see you. Also, you could have _told_ me you were coming.”

“Oh, ha ha.” His smile was persistent, and Arya couldn’t help but smile right on back. “No time. Last minute clearance.”

A breeze brushed past them, and Arya became hyper aware of how much sweat was on her body and the way her hair was sticking to her neck. What a welcome.

Not giving herself a second to doubt the action, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. He froze under her grasp, and she grew self-conscious with the decision. She wasn’t prone to physicality. It wasn’t easy for her.

Slowly, cautiously, he wrapped her arms around her back. Her head tucked underneath his.

“This is kinda unprofessional,” he whispered into her hair.

“I know,” she mumbled into his shoulder. She closed her eyes, breathed him in, let herself have this for a moment before reality came crashing back. She stepped away.

“Happy to see you,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

He laughed and picked up his duffel, throwing it over his shoulder. “Come on, Ms. Stark. Help me find some breakfast and coffee.”

She shoved his arm before leading him in.

 

* * *

 

Meera bit into a piece of toast before waving the remnants of it toward Gendry’s face. “I know I haven’t known you long or anything, but it’s nice to have your energy here.”

“Chew, maybe?” Jojen said over his oatmeal.

“Why do all Reeds get up so early?” Arya asked from her spot beside Gendry. The four of them sat at the kitchen table, Gendry’s eyes darting between them. She could feel he felt a bit awkward being there, probably aware there was a distinction between them and him.

But Arya didn’t understand why there had to be. Jon was good as family, though his situation was a bit different, perhaps.

Meera and Jojen shrugged, making brief eye contact with one another. Jojen hopped to his feet. “I’m going to go wake Bran up.”

“Good luck with that,” Arya said with a scoff.

Gendry stood up next. “I should probably get some sleep before I’m on duty. You two have a good rest of your breakfast.”

He touched Arya’s shoulder briefly just for a second, barely a graze, before leaving, but it was almost as if Meera’s eyes were incapable of seeing anything else. They zoned in on the touch, and the second he was out of the room they were back on Arya.

“Don’t,” Arya warned.

“I haven’t said anything.” She took another loud, crunching bite of toast. “It just seems like you two are even more personal than before, and I wonder how that'd be possible when you haven’t even been in the same physical space is all. Very casually wondering.”

“Nothing about you is casual,” Arya said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that was true.” Meera paused, clearly giving Arya the space if she wanted it.

Arya appreciated it. As pushy as Meera could be, there was still something relenting about her in the right moment.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Meera finally asked.

Arya took a sip of water. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” Meera nodded, leaving it at that. “Not yet.”

 

* * *

 

_“Harder, Arya,” Syrio called, watching from the corner as she moved._

_Sweat dripped in a steady stream down her back. Her heart raced. The gym was filled with heat and the stench of pushing your body to the extreme. It was a smell Arya was more familiar with than any other._

_She grunted, pushing forward again. Syrio groaned and stepped closer into the ring, jumping into the fight as if he had been there the whole time. Which, in a way, he had been. Most of everything her fighting involved was made up of him._

_“Come on, Arya,” he said as he blocked every hit, every kick. “You are better than this, let me see that controlled ice.”_

_His palm hit her face, and suddenly she felt it with every fiber of her being. Her leg kicked out on her own, her body moved smoothly, a scream pulled from her lungs, and the next thing she knew Syrio was flat on his back and she was holding him down with her foot to his throat._

_For a second, the two breathed in silence, a shock surrounding them._

_“There you go,” he said as a look crossed his face—closest to praise, tinted with both shock and awe. “You are troubled, yes? A troubled girl can fight with everything. That much is obvious.”_

 

* * *

 

The moon was low in the sky, and it brought only a sliver of light through Arya’s window as she searched for her favorite sweatshirt. She tied her pajama shorts a bit tighter, slipped into the weathered sweatshirt, and grabbed her phone before heading out.

Despite having Gendry at Winterfell and the need for her late night phone calls disappearing, she found it hard to go to sleep. The night had become a near peaceful time for her, or maybe just an easy time for her to think alone in silence as she walked the halls.

“Why don’t you just come in?” Bran asked.

Arya paused around the corner, listening to the sounds of her brother and who she assumed must be Jojen. These days, it most always was.

“I can’t. I promised Meera we’d finish this documentary tonight.”

It sounded like they were kissing again, and she knew she should leave but it felt like her feet were glued to the floor. This house with all its Starks and guards held so many secrets Arya couldn’t begin to imagine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jojen asked.

“It’s not like I can go anywhere else.” His door shut, and then there were footsteps.

Arya took a breath and continued around the corner, passing Jojen’s path. He paused, a little caught off guard, before his cheeks flushed pink.

“Don’t worry,” Arya said. “This isn’t news.”

He nodded. “We just didn’t… with everything…”

She shrugged. “I promise I don’t care.” The two stood frozen in a moment they didn’t know how to move forward from. Arya reached out and patted his shoulder awkwardly before taking a step past, hoping that was end enough. Her legs stopped three steps later, and she whipped around with a sudden thought she couldn’t stop. “Do you love him?”

Jojen turned over her shoulder to catch her eye, his smile wide. He nodded. “Always have.”

“Good. He deserves it,” she said as she waved goodbye over her shoulder. “‘Night, Jojen.”

Continuing on, she made her way to the stairs and went up and up. The last time she had made her way up here she had left with Gendry’s number. Now he was here, up in that room. Even though it had been days it almost didn’t seem to feel real. Gendry, in her childhood home.

The door was slightly ajar, his voice wafting through, and she halted in her movement to knock.

“—true, then… is that not the authorities’ job? They’ve been planning this for more than a year, they killed someone in the crossfire, we need to take the threat out.” Gendry’s voice paused as he must have been listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone. Arya felt frozen in place. “I want this over with, obviously. I’m just surprised we have the authority to…”

This had to be about the attacks, Arya thought. But what was Gendry saying? A death, more than a year ago… that had to be tied to Syrio. They had found the man who shot the gun, but the motive was always too flimsy. It hadn’t added up. Now, Arya could understand why. Whoever was coming after them all now had been the same person, just hiding behind other faces.

She could feel the darkness she was so good at pushing away, ignoring, bubbling to the surface. How could she not want to avenge someone who had meant the world to her? Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, maybe this wasn’t what she thought it was. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to think through it clearly.

The phone call ended, and Arya heard Gendry take a deep breath. She knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

Arya pushed through into the room, closing it behind her. “You alright?” she asked as casually as she could manage.

He rubbed a hand down his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose. Then he shook it off, sending her a tired smile. “Fine. Just a long night.”

“I can go,” she offered.

“No, you’re not… you’re fine.”

She went to sit on the stool, bringing one of her legs up and resting her chin on her knee. “Thanks. High praise.”

Rolling his eyes, he turned his gaze back to the monitor to check through the cameras. Arya couldn’t tell if she should be mad he hadn’t told her about the news of a lead or not, but it was his job. He wasn't supposed to be telling her anything. They shouldn’t even be friends the way they were.

Somehow, though, he had wormed his way into her heart. Gendry should be nothing more than a fly on the wall protecting her. He was her friend. He was something that made her feel a way she didn’t fully understand yet. Hard to define.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Couldn’t. I haven’t slept well in a few weeks, actually. And now when I walk around the halls at night I keep running into my brother and his boyfriend making out everywhere.”

Gendry’s eyebrows pushed together. “Bran and that Reed boy? I didn’t know they were dating.”

“I think it’s on the down low right now.” Arya chewed her lip, trying to find a way to deal with all the anxious energy pulsing through her body. The person behind Syrio’s death was still out there. Gendry knew it. There were so many big realizations, and yet there was something still calming about his presence. “He really loves Bran.”

“That’s good,” Gendry said, though his voice was slow, almost inquisitive.

Arya looked at him, and she could tell Gendry was wondering if there was something else he should know. If there was a reason she seemed so contemplative over this.

“Sansa thinks there’s a Stark curse when it comes to love,” Arya said finally. “We’re doomed.”

He raised a brow. She reset her legs, bringing them up to a crossed position on top of the stool.

“Do you think you’re doomed?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been in love. I wouldn’t know.” But there, now, looking at Gendry she suddenly wasn’t sure she was that far from that feeling. That she no longer had any idea what it felt like. Love had never really seemed on the market for her, but looking at Gendry she could see a possibility of how it could work for a girl like her.

Those words seemed to tighten the energy in the room, and Arya felt Gendry’s gaze on her stronger. She looked back, daring him to look away. To break this moment. What were they playing at? Nothing could ever come from this but a professional friendship. They were playing at fire.

“I think you have as good a chance as anyone, Arya.” His face was tired, and his hair a little wild from where he had run his hand over it in stress. His eyes were clear, though, and he looked as sturdy as he always did. His sleeves were rolled up, a few top buttons undone. Arya could almost imagine meeting him somewhere else like a pub, watching him drink a pint with his forearms against the bar.

It almost felt like she wasn’t in her body as she let her legs come back to the floor, and she stepped forward, closer to him. She bent down toward him as he sat, hyper-aware of her heart beating loud and fierce. Gendry’s eyes didn’t leave her face for a second, and he reached out a hand to cup her cheek. Her eyes darted to his lips, wondering what it would be like. He brought his forehead to hers, the two breathing in hurried breaths. She wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t actually dreaming.

“We can’t,” he whispered.

She reached back, touching the pads of her finger to the scar that sat beside his eyebrow. “I know,” she said, closing her eyes. It was hard to be here, with him, this close, attempting to acknowledge _them._

“I’m supposed to protect you, and I’m older, and…” his words died, and she opened her eyes to see him pull back and look over her face again. “I have to leave. We have information that could end this whole thing, and they want me with a few other people to go take care of it.”

“You’re going,” she said, unsure how the words sounded. They knew who was the cause of Syrio’s death, who had attempted to take them all, and they were sending Gendry to be a weapon again.

She hated thinking about that person still out there, but she hated even more the possibility that Gendry would have to go be the one to take them out. Gendry would get more blood on his hands. He would put himself in danger. Arya, as sadistic as it felt in her head, wanted to be the one to do it.

In that moment, she felt the certainty that she couldn’t let him. It had never been his to do.

“It’s my job,” he said. He stood up, and now instead of almost looking straight Arya was craning her head upward again.

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“Probably tomorrow night. The latest would be the following morning.” He brought up a hand to the back of his neck. “I know I just got here, but this is…”

“Important,” she finished for him. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tightly to her. He latched right on back. He thought this was a goodbye for him, but Arya thought it might be her own.

“You should go to bed,” he breathed into her hair. “We can train tomorrow morning together one last time before I head out. You’ll need your rest.”

She laughed, but it was sad. Not full. “Fuck off.”

“Didn’t you hear, I am.”

Pulling back, she could see a small yet persistent smile on his face. It pulled her chest taut. “Not to keep on feelings for too much longer, because gross—”

“Yeah, totally disgusting,” he said, smiling down fully at her. He reached out to tug on a strand of her hair fallen from her ponytail.

“If I wasn’t the hand’s daughter and we had met somewhere different, do you think—”

“You’d already be mine,” he said with a nod. “In a respectful way, of course. I know you can kick my ass.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. He was beautiful. She wished she could reach out fully, offer him everything and take it in return, but there was too much sitting between them. Arya wasn’t sure there would ever be anything easy about it, if they could have it. Maybe this was the only moment they would get, and she should reach out and kiss him. Tell him more. But she couldn’t, not tonight. She had already given him more of herself than she had ever given before. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gendry.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

She turned back toward the hallway. He turned back to the monitors.

 

* * *

 

_“And what would you be in a different life? No debts or anything,” Arya asked, back leaned against the car._

_He wiped a hand against his forehead, leaving a streak of oil. Arya wanted to reach out and wipe it away. She didn't._

_Gendry shrugged. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” But then his eyes met hers, dropped to briefly gaze her face, and she felt almost as if he was trying to say something else. “What about you? If you weren’t the hand’s daughter?”_

_“I’d be no one,” she said with a small smile. He raised an inquisitive brow. “I think I might like that.”_

_“Maybe I’d join you,” he said. “Being no one could be nice.”_

_“I don’t think you can be no one when there’s two of you,” she said. Would she give that up for him? For her family? The idea of that sweet oblivion, of belonging to no one and being tied to nobody. She couldn’t hurt anyone, then._

_“You’re thinking too hard,” he said. “Get back to the engine, hard to think too hard looking at that.”_

_“I’m not sure that actually makes sense,” she said, but she was already pushing up to her feet to make her way there. Gendry was behind her, following her with soft steps._

 

* * *

 

Arya wanted to go to bed or devise a plan, but her mind was racing in too many directions to tame it. Really, she had meant to find herself back to her bedroom and somehow had ended up in the kitchens making tea.

Was she really going to do this? Was she going to get the information off of Gendry or Jory or whoever she could manage and try to go take this person out? She had been training her whole life… had it been for this? This moment, when she could finally pay someone back for what they had taken from her.

The tea was too hot, and she blew on it as she walked to sit at the counter. If she was going to do this, there were so many moving parts she had to figure out now. Her time advantage would disappear soon enough. The door flung open, and Arya turned to see Robb slumping in wearing striped pajamas.

“Hello,” she said.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. “I just had to do a conference call with someone six hours earlier than us, and that took way too much energy.”

“There’s plenty of beer in the fridge,” she offered.

His eyes lit up, and he moved to walk over. “Why are you up?”

“Turns out I’m an insomniac now.”

“Hm.”

Arya paused, taking a small sip. It scalded her tongue. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” After opening the fridge, he grabbed a cold piece of leftover pizza and popped it into his mouth.

“If you could do the right thing… but it was dangerous,” Arya said, passing her mug back and forth between her hands, “would you still do it? Knowing it might hurt people?”

Robb paused as he continued to stare at the open fridge before taking out a beer and popping it on the side of the counter. He turned toward his sister as he took a swig. “What’s this about, Arya?”

“It’s… nothing big,” she said. “Really mostly just a hypothetical.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure that's not true.” He took another drink and then set it down in front of him, moving to lean on his forearms against the counter top. “How would it hurt people?”

“The people who love you,” Arya said. “The ones who want to keep you safe.”

Robb shrugged. “We all have to do things like that, sometimes. I think you need to do what your heart knows—the honorable, moral thing—as often as you can. You don’t always get the chance to.”

Arya nodded as she continued to think. If Robb knew what she was planning, would he still offer her this advice? He’d probably want to take her place, if anything. Enact his own sort of vengeance. But Robb Stark didn’t believe in revenge or vengeance, he only believed in justice. She looked up at the strong lines of his face, the hair that was just a touch too long, and knew that they were both so similar and yet so different.

Because Arya was pretty sure she was darker. She was quite certain she might be able to open her chest to the dark parts of herself, to the parts that wanted to pay back all those who’ve wronged her with blood.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” Robb asked. “I could help you.”

She smiled. It wasn’t as beautiful as Sansa’s or as joyful as Rickon’s. Not as all-knowing as Bran’s. But it was good enough to calm her brother. “You already have. Thanks.”

He gave one, brisk nod. “Anytime.”

“‘Night,” she said as she took her mug and left, waving over her shoulder with her free hand as he said the same back.

She had a bag to pack.

 

* * *

 

Jon and Robb were sparring back and forth when Arya entered into the small room in their basement devoted to working out. The mat was much smaller than the large estate in King’s Landing, but it was still a nice space. Gendry was lifting weights in the corner as he leisurely watched, and Arya hated how his shirtless form made her pause for a second.

“Oh, so now that Gendry is here we’re good enough to train with,” Robb said with a teasing smile. “I see how it is.”

She flung up her middle finger. “Shove off.”

Jon walked over to his water bottle and took a drink, Robb following shortly behind him.

“Well it’s all yours,” Jon said with a wave toward the mat. “Feel free to show us up.”

Gendry set down his weights and walked over, stopping only to grab a towel to wipe some of the sweat off his face. Arya stepped onto the mat, rolling out her muscles. She really should stretch a little and warm up before taking Gendry on. But this was part of the plan, and the quicker she did it, the sooner she was able to start her own search for vengeance.

They started moving slowly, both warming up to the speed of their usual fights. He swung and she duck, pushing toward his abdomen and knocking him off balance. She hit him in the side with her leg, he moved to bring her down. They were going quick now, quick enough for Arya to feel in the proper swing of things, when she purposefully brought her leg up and hit his nose hard.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he stumbled backward, bringing a hand up.

“Shit,” she said as she stepped forward. “I didn’t mean to, I’m out of practice.”

He waved her away. “It’s fine, I just need to stop the bleeding.”

“It’s not broken, is it?” Robb asked.

Arya stepped closer, reaching up to move Gendry’s hands away. Blood was pooling down his chin. “No, just hit it bad,” Arya said. “You’ll be fine.” If only she could say goodbye, properly. For a second she thought Gendry might see it in her eyes, but then she looked away and the plan kept rolling forward.

“Come on, I’ll take you to get it patched up,” Robb said as he stepped forward to guide him out of the room. “Be a bit more careful Arya, yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she watched them out. She took a step toward Jon and feigned a stumble, reaching out to him. “Fuck, I think I hit my ankle wrong, too.”

“Here,” Jon said as he stepped closer, moving to take an arm over his shoulders and guide her out, “let’s go get this wrapped.”

“I can’t,” Arya said. “I need to catch my breath for a minute. Do you think you could get me an ice pack and then help me up?”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.” Jon exited the room and then there was one.

Arya moved quickly to where Gendry had left his phone, opening it easily. She had watched him type in the code a million times. If he was to be sent on some sort of mission, there was sure to be a task plan. She checked his email, sliding through them as quickly as her eyes could read.

Her heart was racing. An email with the subject line: Extraction Mission Plan. That couldn’t be more obvious. There were footsteps coming back to the room, and she forwarded the email to herself before throwing the phone back to its spot and sitting on the nearby bench.

Jon came in with the pack. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said with a tight smile. “I’ll be okay.”

 

* * *

 

Her bag was already packed. She had switched clothes to something more practical, made sure she had the right information on her phone, and planned her route out of the house accordingly. The hiking pack was already on her back as she looked out to the hallway to find it clear.

There were cameras everywhere around the outside of the house, and there was no way she could make it out the front door. Her best bet was the back window, sliding down the drain pipe, and keeping it low as she ran for the woods. She could make it to the extra garage before anyone would know she was gone, take a car, and get far away. The car wouldn't last her long when people knew what to look for, but it would get her far enough away to make her next step.

As she was sliding open the window Sansa came out of her room, and Arya jumped through the window quickly. She turned to shut it behind her, and there her sister was.

“Tell me you’re not doing something stupid,” she hiss-whispered.

“I can’t.” Arya felt the pressure of being exposed. She needed to move now. “I need to do this, though, Sansa.”

Sansa’s eyes darted down the hallway before looking back to her sister. “If you get hurt I’ll kill you. Be safe, you understand?” Dipping through the window, she kissed Arya’s cheek and pulled back. “Now, go. Be quick about it.”

“Thank you,” Arya said. She hopped it was clear it was I love you. Neither of them had ever been that good at saying it, but every once in a miraculous moment they were all right at showing it.

 

* * *

 

_Do you know what we say to the God of death, Syrio said._

“Not today,” Arya whispered to herself as she followed the address.

“Not today,” as she tracked the man: Viserys Targaryen. Some mad man looking to take a thrown by overthrowing the entire government one child at a time.

“Not today,” as she ditched her phone, looking away from the missed calls from Gendry and her parents and every other person that loved her.

 _I can’t believe you did this,_ Gendry’s last text said. _I swear to every Gods if you get hurt I’ll never forgive you._

“Not today,” she said to herself, squaring her shoulders, continuing on. This was her chance. She sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it.

 

* * *

 

It had only taken two weeks, and yet it felt like centuries to Arya. She had no idea how close Gendry’s security team was to getting Viserys in custody. As far as she knew, they could be as close as her. That didn’t matter, though, because this was her moment.

After tracking a trail through different cities and safe houses, Arya had ended up across the Narrow Sea. It made her think even more fondly back on Syrio as accents morphed closer to the familiarity of his. It shouldn’t be hard to achieve her goals. Her whole body seemed to thrum with the proximity of it, the possibilities.

Despite all the hovels and hidden places Arya had traipsed through to get here, Viserys was staying in a literal palace. It was large and beautiful. Guarded fairly well, too. Arya was certain she could slip her way through and do what needed to be done. She dropped her pack near the edge of the woods nearby and pulled out the burner phone she had bought for just this occasion.

The phone rang as she watched the guard walk back and forth.

“Hello? Who is this? Arya, I swear to—”

“Gendry,” she said. She hadn’t meant for his name to come out so much like a breath of relief. There was something fundamentally tired within her. It would be nice when this was over, and she could relax for at least a second. “I’m here.”

“What does here mean? Tell us where you are, and we can get someone out to you. Are you okay?”

Arya breathed in deeply. “I’m fine. I’ll send you the coordinates after we hang up, and you can send someone out to get him when I’m finished.”

“You can’t kill him, Arya,” he said. “It won’t change anything but fuck your life up. Just let us get him, okay? Tell me where you are.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said this,” Arya said, “but I’ve missed you, Gendry Waters. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Ary—” His voice cut out as she hit end. She hit send on the coordinates she had saved just for him, and then she threw the phone to the side with her pack.

The guard was around the corner, and she ran toward the side of the building to crawl up the trellis to get to the second story. The window was unlocked, and she pushed it up and slipped through. It opened into a bedroom devoid of any belongings, and she crept to the door. Her heart kept an irregular beat in her chest.

Her mind flashed back to a conversation she had with her father years ago. _You know the secret to not being afraid?_ he had asked as he watched her training one night.

She had paused, her eyebrows scrunching together. _What?_ She asked.

 _Only a stupid man isn’t afraid,_ he said. _So you have to lean into the fear. The man who fights for nothing can’t fight for life the way someone who loves does._

 _Or woman,_ she had said with a tricky smile.

He nodded. _Aye, little wolf. Or woman._

Arya had wanted for so long to disappear from all of her connections, but it wouldn’t change anything. The truth was, she was lucky to have her siblings and her parents and Gendry. Why would she fight to punish someone if it wasn’t so she could have a brighter, bigger future? What would be the point of draining the only good things she had down the drain?

“—the other children. The most important are those pesky Baratheons, and with the new intel—”

“Sir, are you certain—”

“Am I _certain?_ Do you dare question me? How _dare_ —”

“You’re right, sir. I’ll get on it right away.”

“You better, or the next time you dare to contradict a thing I say it’ll be damn near your last.”

“Yes, sir.”

Arya sucked herself further into the wall as she heard the door open and close. The man shuffled past, blind to Arya. As the hallway cleared, she followed the wall to the door and slipped in as quietly as she could manage. Viserys was oblivious from his spot at his desk. It would be simple to sneak behind him and slit his throat before he even knew she was there.

But she was a Stark, and honor sat inside of her as thick and coursing as her very blood.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked.

He startled and turned. His hair was silvery white, and his skin pale. She had always imagined him to look stronger, but in person he was tall and thin. It wouldn’t be difficult to take him down. Her shoulders felt stronger, her arms felt packed with muscle, and for the first time, with overwhelming clarity, Arya felt like a weapon. She was a taut bow, ready to strike.

“How did you get in here?” He stood abruptly, knocking his chair over. His eyes flashed to the corner of the room, and Arya couldn’t see what he was looking at, but she knew it was either something to protect himself or call for help.

“So, you don’t know then?” she continued, stepping closer. Every step made her feel more powerful. It was exhilarating. “Isn’t that wild. You don’t even recognize a girl you tried to kidnap. Do you know the name Syrio Forel?”

“Ahhh,” he said with a knowing smile. His eyes seemed to light up with a dirty conviction. “A Stark, yes? The ugly one. Have you come to take me out, is that it? You think I haven’t had my life threatened before?”

The ugly one. _You aren’t pretty, are you?_ Syrio had once said to her. And in his own way, he had meant so many things about her that Arya now knew to be true. She would never have been here standing across from Viserys if Syrio had never died. But she also would have never been here, standing across from him ready to fight, if Syrio had never come into her life.

“You’re just a cockroach,” she said with a shrug, “but I can end you and all the shit you’ve caused. Would continue to cause.”

She stepped closer, and he dove toward the corner of his desk. Before his hand could make contact with the phone, Arya was behind him twisting his arm behind his back. He squealed out before turning his body and elbowing backward. As he moved to face her, he kicked out against her stomach and propelled her onto the ground.

Before she could push back up, he was holding her to the ground with his foot on her stomach.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” he asked.

Arya thought about Gendry. It shouldn’t be that long before back up was here, but what would they find? Viserys’s dead body and her covered in blood? Was that who she wanted to be? She had the power to do it, and it wouldn’t even be that hard.

“Yes,” she said, and then she pulled out the blade from her boot and sliced his calf. Blood spurted onto her shirt as he cursed. As he dipped to the side, she hit the back of his knee and brought herself back up to full height.

It was easy after that—a few moves this way, a few moves that. He was on the ground, breathing heavily, and she had his shoulders pinned down. The knife was heavy in her palm. This was the moment.

“Please,” he whispered out, his lips trembling. “You can’t do this. I’m meant to have the crown, it’s my _birthright_.”

Her breathing halted. Viserys wasn’t someone to be feared at all; he truly was merely a cockroach. What was the honor in ending someone’s life like that? All it would do is hurt her own, and she didn’t need death to feel revenge. He could rot in a cell somewhere, no one remembering his name, and it would be exactly what he deserved.

Arya was tired of always feeling like she was fighting. That she was on the brink of some huge battle. Scarier than death, scarier than the fight, was the idea that she could be happy. She could go home and love her siblings. Love Gendry. Gods, if that wasn’t the most terrifying possibility. All this time she had started to think of herself as more of a shadow, a weapon, but she wasn’t. She was a woman with a life.

And she didn’t want to end his. Her sister, Gendry… they were right. It wouldn’t bring Syrio back. Her problems would still be there.

“You’re pathetic,” she said in a breath of realization. Through the half opened window, she could hear the sounds of cars squealing to a stop. There were yells and gunshots. This would all be over soon enough. “Taking your life wouldn’t even be worth it.”

Standing up, she pocketed the knife into the back of her pants. His leg was still bleeding onto the white carpet. She pushed her foot into his throat, holding him in place. A second later, the door flung open.

“Arya,” Gendry said, lowering the weapon quickly to Viserys. All at once, her attention pulled, she felt hands grab at her waist to pull her down. Before she could push her foot down harder, to block his airway, her pants were being pulled and the knife taken. A quick slash. “Arya!”

Gendry pushed forward and shot a bullet into Viserys’s leg. “Are you okay?” he asked. More people funneled into the room, moving to carry him out.

Arya felt fine, really. She reached behind her and felt the slash on her back Viserys had caused. It wasn’t that bad. Her hand was red as she brought it back in front of her.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” he said. His eyes didn’t move from her.

“You shouldn’t have distracted me,” she said.

He laughed. “You shouldn’t have run off.”

“Do you hate me?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Like that's possible, Arya.”

She felt her legs give out, but his arms were already around her.

“Arya!”

Her head was dizzy, and she was tired, and she gave into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

The room was empty when she woke up. A machine was beeping beside her, and there was a cup of coffee on the table. Someone must have been here recently, but now she was alone. Her back was sore and ached, but after a minute she realized how content she felt.

There was no revenge to be enacted. There was nothing to hide from. She was at peace.

The door opened, and Arya turned to look.

“You’re up,” Gendry said. He looked exhausted. There was a fresh cup of coffee in his hands. “I should tell your family, they’ll—”

“Please come here,” she said. As she tried to push herself up, she winced. Her back still felt sore.

He paused before doing as she said, setting the coffee down next to the old cup. The bags under his eyes were worse closer, but then Arya grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him near and he smiled. That smile was still beautiful, earth-shattering. It brought light to his whole face, and Arya felt her chest tighten.

“How long have I been out?” she asked.

“For 36 hours. You lost a lot of blood.”

She pulled his wrist closer again, bringing him a step away. It was hard from her position and because moving her arms pulled at her back, but she reached for his cheek and hoped he would meet it. He did.

He sighed, and she removed the hand and scooted over on the bed. Her eyes made it clear she wanted him to sit beside her.

“I should really get…” he trailed off.

“Please,” she said. Her eyes begged, which was a feeling she wasn’t all that accustomed to. “Just for a minute. Then you can tell my family.”

His shoulders fell, and he released a large breath. “Okay.”

Cautiously, he slipped into the bed beside her. There was barely any room for the two of them, he was so big, but it was nice to have a moment this close to him. There was usually so many things keeping them apart, separated, and now the physicality couldn’t be avoided.

“I really did miss you,” she said. “I’m sorry I left.”

He brought a hand to push hair away from her face, and she grinned softly at the touch. It was electrifying.

“I swear to all the Gods if you do that again…” he trailed off, releasing the breath. His eyes looked into hers, trailed over her face, breathed her in. “Please, don’t.”

“I can’t promise I won’t do stupid things,” she said. She scooted closer, bringing them so close it was impossible to avoid how the touch was everywhere. Their thighs and stomachs, and then their foreheads as they dipped closer.

He nodded against her. “I figure that's just part of the job of loving you.”

“I wouldn’t call it a job. A gift, maybe?” she teased. He laughed, and the way it rattled his chest vibrated through her body. “I love you, too.”

It was like the floodgates were opened, and he rushed forward to meet his lips to hers. She kissed back, certain with every part of herself that she wanted him. She needed him in a weird, strange way she had never needed someone before. Life was inarguably better with him around.

He cupped the back of her head, fingers dipping into her hair, and she tilted her head upward to make the angle better. As the two shifted, she felt her back stretch and she groaned.

“Sorry,” she said as she pulled back. “I’m still not 100%.”

“Since you caught Westeros’s most wanted, I think you can be forgiven.” He smiled. “But just to verify, we aren’t doing that alone again, yeah? We’re done with vigilante stuff.”

She held out her pinky and he met it with his own, wearing an amused smile.

“You should probably get my family,” she said.

He nodded, carefully unwinding himself from her on the bed. Once he was on his feet, he dipped forward and kissed her forehead. “I’m probably going to have to resign.”

She laughed. “I’d reckon that's probably true.”

As she watched him walk toward the door, a beam spread across her face. It was almost painful. “Gendry,” she said, waiting for him to turn around. “You’re my family too, y’know.”

For a beat, she wondered if she had said something wrong. Then he crossed the room again in two quick steps and laid a heavy kiss on her. “You’re the worst. The absolute worst.”

“I hate you, too.”

He shook his head, laughed, and went to go get her family. Arya may have been in the hospital, wounded and tired, but she felt more at peace than she had in forever.

 

* * *

 

“This is what I _deserve_ ,” Sansa said as she slipped into the passenger seat. “After all you put me through.”

They were outside of their childhood home, the wind brushing past in soft swirls with the roof down. The car was finally all together. A beautiful, bright red. Sansa slipped on sunglasses that matched the bright exterior.

“It’s been two months. I think it’s time to let it go,” Arya said as she started the car.

She hummed, looking over the top of her sunglasses at the car around her. “We’ll see about that.” She ran a hand over the smooth leather of the seat. “This is beautiful, Arya. He would have loved it.”

“Do you really like it?” Arya asked, as she adjusted the mirrors. Then she turned toward her sister and gave her full attention.

Sansa smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good,” Arya said. “‘Cause it’s yours.”

“Arya, shut the—”

Arya revved the engine. “Now, Sansa. That wouldn’t be very ladylike, would it? Accept a gift. You’re the only other person who can properly appreciate this car, anyways. Who it would have been for. Plus the red just looks _so good_ with your hair.”

Sansa gnawed her bottom lip before laughing, looking around her. “You know, a light blue would have actually been much better with my complexion, but I can make this work.”

“Let’s go for a drive.” She hit the gas with force, and they jolted down the road.

“Arya!” Sansa screamed, reaching out to hit her sister’s arm.

Then the air rushed through their hair, they laughed, they enjoyed the freedom of the open road.

 

* * *

 

Arya spread herself out on Gendry’s bed, waiting for him to come back with the pizza they had ordered. She scrolled her phone, though there wasn’t much interesting. Her phone buzzed.

“Tell me you saw that gross Westeros Daily article?” Meera asked.

“Hello to you, too.” Arya flung out her free arm against the pillows. “Now, what is this article?”

“Jojen and Bran! Voted one of the _cutest_ couples in the limelight. I might puke.”

“Ohhh, don’t be jealous,” Arya teased. “You can find love, too.”

“Fuck right off.”

Arya laughed. “It is prety gross. What do they even do that they’re in the limelight. They’re such nerds.”

“Exactly what I’m saying.”

Gendry came back into the room, carrying a pizza box, and Arya smiled.

“Gendry is back, I have to go.”

Meera groaned. “You know, love is pretty disgusting and you might need to get free. But also, enjoy your very hot boyfriend. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Arya threw her phone to the side.

“What’s that about?” he asked.

Arya scooted up to a sitting position, the box of pizza now between them. “Just Meera being dramatic.”

He chuckled. “What else is new. She still talking about climbing those mountains?”

“She certainly won’t be talked out of it.” She reached forward for a slice. Gendry did the same, and she watched the way he carefully chose one before ripping it off. Her heart swelled.

She had never imagined she would get to this. Small moments that meant everything. Simplicity with another person where she felt beyond comfortable. She felt loved.

“What?” he asked through a bite of pizza when he caught her looking.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. But she reached forward and gave him a kiss on his lips. “How was work with Davos today?’

He groaned. “You know, same old same old. Except we have this client we’re working with right now, and he’s the _worst…_ ”

Arya listened to his day, watched him, realized she was pretty sure she could never get sick of this.

 

* * *

 

_Arya hid in a corner, wiping away a stray tear. It had been a hard day. Long and strange, and she needed to get away from everyone. She just wanted to go home._

_“There you are,” Syrio said as he pulled back the curtain that had kept her more hidden._

_She sniffled, trying to cover up the tears. “I already finished lessons today.”_

_“I know.” He came beside her, letting his legs stretch long in front of him. “Who has made you cry?”_

_“I’m not crying,” she said in a huff. Then she sighed, long and tired. “No one_ gets _me. What if no one ever does?”_

_“I understand you,” he said without a beat, “and there are people who will. Don’t waste tears, little wolf. All will be alright.”_

_She was pretty sure she didn’t believe him, but she wanted to. She tried to._

 

* * *

 

Arya walked with Sansa down the familiar hall, already hearing the sounds behind the doors of all the people already playing the socializing game. There was never a world in which she would be excited about being apart of it all.

“Oh my god,” Jon said as he turned with Gendry to see the girls. “Arya, are you wearing something other than _black_?”

“Don’t get too excited, it’s just dark green.” Arya rolled her eyes, but she could practically feel Sansa’s smile beside her.

“I tried to get her to yellow, but we ended up compromising,” Sansa said. “Wow, Jon, you look extra nice tonight.”

He stuttered, looking down at his gray suit, and when he looked up Arya could have sworn he was almost blushing. “Thanks, Sansa. Switching it up.”

She stepped forward, kissed his cheek, and pulled back to smile. “It looks nice. Now, are we going to get in and get out?”

Arya took a deep breath. “Let’s just… play it by ear.”

Sansa turned and smiled over her shoulder. Arya felt Gendry take a step closer, his hand on her lower back, and she smiled back.

“But we _need_ to go get food after this,” Arya said, “because there’s never enough here. I can’t survive off of overly priced appetizers.”

“Oh, thank gods,” Jon said. “Robb and I were talking earlier about how badly we could go for a burger earlier.”

“Fast food run afterwards it is,” Sansa said with a smile. “Let’s go do this so we can get to the good stuff.”

Sansa and Jon made their way in, and Gendry paused to grab onto Arya’s upper arm.

“Are you good?”

Arya thought about it, how far she had come and the ways she still felt she wanted to move forward. So much had happened in her life, but she felt capable now. She knew what she could handle. She knew what she wanted.

Gendry looked down at her, just as open and sturdy as he always was. She could thank the gods forever for him.

“I’m great.” She reached up and kissed him soundly. “Perfect, really.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s not get carried away now.”

She pushed his shoulder, rolling her eyes in return as he laughed. The door opened again, and she felt ready for whatever was on the other side.

**Author's Note:**

> not entirely sure at all where this plotline came from, but you can find me on tumblr at [anniebibananie](http://anniebibananie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [p.s. recently deleted my blog, so if you used to be following me you probably aren't anymore just a fyi]


End file.
